The new Sebring is a big guy, largest of this group by nearly five inches in length. Compared with the Sebring sedan, the convertible's tail has been stretched 3.2 inches. The result is a genuinely useful trunk even when the top is stowed and a rear seat that's by far the roomiest. The Sebring's ride is smoothest of the group, and we're impressed by the interior materials. We've been critical of Chryslers over the years for their sheeny-shiny cabins, obviously plastic. But not here. The colors are Audi subtle, surfaces are gloss-free zones, and just when we thought we'd seen every grain pattern that man could hatch, Chrysler designers went abstract, forsaking imitation leather in favor of a simulated spatter effect. It really works. In fact, the quality of the interior materials easily tops the group. Taking all this into consideration, we rated the Sebring at the bottom of the class.

How come? It's our version of the bazooms thing. The Sebring is no fun at the dance. The tires melt away when you push through the turns. Skidpad grip is a flaccid 0.76 g, compared with a muscular 0.83 for the best here, the Mustang. The small V-6--1.2 and 1.3 liters down on the others--takes 9.6 seconds to reach 60 mph and about a second and a half longer through the quarter-mile than the competing convertibles. It wins on fuel economy, however.

In fact, the Sebring drives very well in resort-wear mode (some people call that normal driving). The steering is light to the touch, but effort buildup off-center accurately communicates steering angles. The brakes, too, are nicely gradual, with no wasted pedal motion. And the four-speed automatic is right there with a downshift when you need a bit more ratio to gain speed. The front buckets are shaped for comfort, with no pretense at sport. Like any good appliance, the Sebring needs little human attention as it goes about its job.

Extrapolating the Gothic styling details of the Crossfire up to full-size automobile proportions was a risky ploy, and we find it off-putting. The tin-roof ridges on the hood remind of long-ago hog sheds. Yet Chrysler deserves credit for going the extra mile to get the hard roof right. It breaks into three sections so it can stow in a smaller space than Pontiac's two-piecer, thereby taking up less luggage space when the top is retracted into the trunk. Good so far, but Sebring softtops suffer a penalty compared with traditional ragtops because they fold away using the hard-roof mechanism, which means they use up much more luggage space than traditional ragtops.

The Sebring's softtop is fully lined, as is the Mustang's, but Chrysler has done a neater job, making it smooth and tailored.

Lots of virtue here, but the lust level is right down there with Whirlpool.